Scent Of Magic

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Scent Of Magic Page 3

by Jeanine Berry


  “I grew up on an abandoned world. We were glad to get something to eat, most days. Although Ryol’s lived in the lap of luxury for these past five years.”

  “You’ve been away from Kyffin for five years?”

  “Ten, actually. It took him a while to amass his wealth. He’s done well financially, at least.”

  “And you?”

  “I’m an artist. I do metal sculptures.”

  That explained the muscled shoulders. She pictured him alone in a studio, blowtorch in hand, stripped to his waist, sweat gleaming on his chest. Her cheeks grew hot. “You said you’re not partners.” Maybe it was time she got that clear.

  “Nope. Not even friends.” His lips curled in a rueful smile. “Not even full brothers, actually. He and my sister are my half-siblings. You’ll meet Sharlene when we land on Kyffin.”

  She hesitated over her next question. She’d never carried passengers before and she figured the less she knew about their business the better, as long as it wasn’t illegal. But an inner voice warned her that she needed to know. “Why are you going back to Kyffin?”

  “Ryol needs to get something—and he needs me to get it. Simple as that.” Blane shrugged. “I have some business to finish. After that, we go our separate ways.”

  He squeezed the last bit of paste out of his tube and swallowed it, then licked his lips. Ange’s pulse quickened as she watched his tongue sweep over his lower lip. His lips were full, sensual, and far too kissable. What was she thinking? If she got close enough to this man to kiss him, he’d catch her scent, the lust would grab him and the madness would start all over again. Only this time, they’d both be lost because his wild, woodsy smell would drive her over the edge with a matching passion.

  Oh, gods. The thought of the resulting conflagration aroused her. An image of their sweat-sheened bodies entangled together on the bunk in her cabin filled her mind. Her cheeks burned with suppressed desire. She dropped her gaze to the floor and tried to concentrate on the metal rivets bolting the plates of the deck together. Her face was hot and her hands were clammy. Maybe she was coming down with a fever.

  “You okay?” His voice sounded concerned.

  She laid her empty tube on the table with shaking hands and stared at the vent in the wall above Blane’s head. Damn! The air circulation system was blowing his scent her way. She caught a spicy, masculine aroma and a deeper, musky scent that reminded her of the lush, hot smell of the tropical jungle on Beta Centuri. Heat, hot jungle heat. A drop of sweat trickled down between her breasts.

  “It’s been an interesting chat, but I have to go,” she mumbled.

  “Wait!” Without warning he took three long steps and stood in front of her. His chest blocked her path like a wall. His smell washed over her, drowning her in its richness. Against her will, she took a deep breath, sucking his incredibly delicious scent down into her lungs. Palm trees, lush tropical plants, exotic flowers opening to the hot sun. Her head spun.

  He grabbed her arm, his strong fingers scorching her skin wherever they touched. His violet eyes blazed into hers. “I can’t stop thinking about you, ever since that night when I—” He stopped, took a breath. “I’ve honored your wishes, but I have to know why someone so beautiful would spend her life hiding from men.”

  With a curse, Ange jerked her arm free. Blane looked surprised at her anger.

  “Don’t touch me!” she yelled. “I warned you to stay away from me.”

  “It’s all right. I’d never hurt you.”

  He towered over her. The strong rumble of his voice vibrated through her body, setting off subtle reactions everywhere. Her legs trembled and her fingers itched to brush back the wisps of soft brown hair that fell into his eyes as he stared at her. The world whirled and she grabbed for something solid to support her.

  To her dismay, Blane grabbed her again, his hands grasping her elbows to hold her steady. His eyes shone with compassion and his hot, jungle scent enveloped her in a cloud of mounting desire. “What is it? Did someone hurt you? I want to help.”

  He bent closer, his face a handbreadth away from hers, his breath hot on her cheek. Too close! She’d warned him. And yet she wanted to know what his kiss was like, wanted the touch of those firm lips despite the terrible danger. Madness seized her. She drove her fears away and leaned into him, raising her head. He realized her intent and bent to the kiss. Their lips met, and hot, molten fire erupted between them, sending a rush of exquisite pleasure coursing through her. It was unbelievable how much she craved his touch.

  She broke away, frightened by a longing more powerful than anything she’d ever felt. “Blane.” She whispered his name in amazement. Her arms looped around his neck.

  He trembled against her and she knew that a matching tide of emotion exploded through him. He bent his head and his mouth claimed hers, clinging to her with a hot, terrible need. His lips moved over hers urgently, with rising desire. Her long-suppressed passions, fed by years of loneliness, rose to meet his in a wild, uncontrollable crescendo.

  His tongue slid into her mouth, probing, each thrust a promise of deeper intimacies to come. In another moment her body would melt into his arms and she’d be lost.

  No! Fear surged through her, panic at what was about to happen. She broke off the kiss and saw his eyes darken as he took a surprised breath. She knew with a cold, sinking feeling that he’d caught her scent. His pupils expanded into black holes as deep and fathomless as space. She recognized that look, knew it far too well. The lust had started to overpower his senses, and if she stared in his eyes a moment longer, she would drown.

  She struggled to break free, but his grip tightened on her elbows. They stood, facing each other, both breathing hard.

  Blane held her in a firm grip, worried by the panic in her eyes. His lips burned with the touch of hers and his body screamed its urgent need at her. He didn’t want to scare her, but he had to know the reason for her strange elusiveness. No woman had treated him like this ever—or at least not since his adolescence had brought the change in his body’s chemistry that produced his overpowering aroma.

  A subtle fragrance wafted up to him, borne by the hot currents of air shimmering over her flushed skin. Perfume, she must be wearing some perfume. Against his will, he took a deep breath. Her sweet, delicate scent danced through him. Wildflowers in a high, mountain meadow. Sunshine sparkling on a crystal-clear stream where Londorian trees rained their velvet soft blossoms on the water. The rich, alluring fragrance of flowers woven in a woman’s hair.

  Erotic images surged into his brain, almost overwhelming him. Sun-warmed skin. Burying his face into the fragile hollow between her breasts to breathe deep, deep, deeper. His tongue tasting her skin. Spreading her legs to catch the perfume of her hot core.

  A tidal surge of desire started deep in his loins and spread through him with all the sudden fury of an unleashed inferno. His eyes narrowed and his hands on her elbows grew slick with sweat.

  Perfume! She smelled of the strongest, most exotic perfume in the universe.

  Ryol. He growled deep in his throat at the thought of his brother. While he’d been staying in his cabin, abiding by Ange’s requests, Ryol must have spoken to her, and given her his wicked, potent perfume.

  Blane’s lips formed a snarl of anger. He wanted no part of Ryol or his perfume. He released her elbows and stepped back. “You reek!” he snapped, although nothing could be further from the truth. She smelled of heaven, of sunlight and freedom and laughter, as fresh as a breeze off a high glacier, as sweet as a meadow warmed by the sun. He wanted to lay her down on a bed of wildflowers and weave the petals through her shining curls. He wanted to make passionate love to her while the earth cradled their bodies and the sun burned their skin.

  “Excuse me!” She lifted both eyebrows, anger plain on her face.

  He stuck a hand into his pocket and pulled out a breath mint. The sharp, peppermint scent filled his nostrils, easing the overwhelming compulsion to take her in his arms.

 
“I see Ryol’s given you some of his perfume, but you need to go a little easier on it,” he said, trying to keep his tone light.

  Her eyes flashed like green emeralds. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “My brother. His perfume.” Blane shrugged to hide his disappointment. His mind shuddered away from an image of her sneaking through the ship to a secret liaison with Ryol. They were all adults. What she did was her business. But he hadn’t thought Ange Bennett was the type to be swept away by his brother’s wealth.

  “I’m talking about my brother and the fact that he’s obviously showering you with gifts already.” He forced a smile to his lips. “Enjoy it while you can. Ryol is something of a playboy on Tau Delta.”

  Her chin went up in the air. “I haven’t spoken two words to your brother since he came on board this ship.”

  “If you say so.” Now she was lying to him. The incredible scent coming off her skin could only come from Ryol’s outrageously expensive perfume. Blane swallowed his disappointment. He’d thought she was different from the other women he knew. Wrong again. Well, he’d obey her rules for the rest of the trip and be glad when his mission was accomplished and he could return to his studio. Women sculpted from stone were all his future held.

  How often did he have to learn the same lesson? Some people were destined to live their lives alone. He was one.

  “I do say so.” Her chin went up another notch. Gods, she was a liar and a brassy one at that. He had a sudden urge to teach her a lesson. Scent could be a dangerous thing.

  Moving with fluid grace, he stepped in front of her again, grabbing her arms. Her eyes widened as she caught his smell. Good! Let her feel the same wild fire of passion that tormented him. He bent over her, watching her pupils dilate as his scent surrounded her. In another moment, she’d be pressing her body against his, arching into him, curving her stomach against his throbbing erection, begging for him to take her. He bent his head, determined to kiss her—a long, hot kiss that would teach her never to mess with him again.

  Ange’s eyes grew huge as Blane’s head lowered toward her. His breath scorched her skin. Her heart pounded and her head spun with his wild, musky scent.

  Panic gave her strength. She pulled free of his grip for a second time, whirled around and charged through the door.

  “Ange! Wait! Talk to me!”

  She clapped her hands to her ears to stop the captivating sound of his voice. Gaining the corridor, she focused on reaching her cabin door. As it slid shut, she sighed with relief. She leaned against the cold metal and panted while her mind danced with unwanted sensual images. Her body yearned for Blane, wanted him in her bed, naked and hungry. But that was the last thing she needed. As much as her heart might ache for a lover, her few relationships with men had been one-night stands, often brutal as the man succumbed to his lust. Every attempt to date a man had ended in a sexual orgy, nothing more. They wanted her and then they hated her. That was the way of it.

  She stared at her narrow bed, the corners of her blanket tucked in with neat precision in military style. It might as well be a nun’s bed in some religious cloister for all the passion that had ever warmed its cold sheets. Instead, she’d spent the last few years denying her natural amorous appetite, trying to ignore the intense sexuality that flowed like a raging firestorm through her veins.

  Blane Llewelyn had brought it roaring back to life with the merest brush of his warm breath against her cheek. His alluring scent was like fuel to some inner sacred flame that refused to be quenched. She had found her matching spark at last. Stimulated by his powerful scent, impassioned desire raged through her with dangerous intensity.

  His face filled her inner vision. Her hands moved of their own volition to stroke her upper arms where his touch had branded her. Her throat went dry as she remembered the strength of his grip. Her heart beat slower as the memory intensified, each beat heavy with the erotic desires sizzling in her veins. Her blood slowed too, pooling its heat in sensitive places, swelling her intimate flesh so that the slightest movement aroused her tingling nerves to the keen edge of pleasure.

  She caught a glimpse of her face in the mirror. Her skin was flushed and her eyes glittered with hunger. She’d seen that same glitter in the eyes of men. Was Blane a freak like her? Her male counterpart? Would he understand her torment?

  Hope flared, only to die. She couldn’t endure another disappointment. He was a man. Hormones, that’s all it was. Hormones out of control. She was so horny the mere smell of a healthy man was enough to set her off. Well, if her long voyages alone in the depths of space had taught her nothing else, they’d taught her how to satiate her out-of-control hormones.

  Lifting her head in a proud gesture, she pulled at the quick-seal fastenings of her clothes, ripping off her jacket, blouse and bra. They floated to the floor and she stepped over them.

  Naked from the waist up, she paused to admire the round perfect globes of her breasts, the creamy white skin, the dark red nipples. Watching herself in the mirror, she lifted her hands and cupped both breasts, admiring their fullness. Her eyelids fluttered shut and her breathing quickened as she imagined Blane bending over her to take one of her tender nipples in his mouth. At the thought, her nipples hardened, taut with desire.

  Passion flamed through her. Uttering an oath, she kicked off her boots and pulled down her pants. In another moment she was completely nude. Her hands stroked frantically over her skin, caressing her breasts and belly, kindling a flame that flickered downward to set her secret parts afire. Her fingers plucked at the stiff, extended nipples that begged for Blane’s mouth. She collapsed on the bed and ran her hands down her sides, over her hips and across her flat abdomen to the tangle of curls that concealed her woman flesh.

  As her fingers slipped over the moist skin and found the small, hard nub, she sank deeper into an uninhibited fantasy of Blane beside her in the bed. Squeezing her eyes shut, she imagined that her hands were his. His violet eyes deepened into dark pools of desire again in her imagination…his strong body pressed against hers, his rigid length mute testimony to his passion. His hot mouth moved over her trembling skin, each kiss igniting rivers of fire that flowed into her belly and aroused her beyond endurance…

  She moaned aloud, lost in her fantasy. She looped her arms around his neck and pressed her body brazenly against his, inviting intimacy. This was the moment, the terrible moment when all other men turned to maddened beasts with no other thought than to ravish her. Only in fantasy could she be safe, only in fantasy could she give rein to her dreams. She imagined his violet eyes filled with love and desire as he drank in her naked body. He whispered her name with longing and she knew that he loved her for more than the lust she could arouse. His hands reached for her, his thumbs stroking her shivering skin with gentle touches, rousing her to pleasure. He opened her legs and his hard body covered hers as he thrust into her.

  Little whimpers of longing escaped her. Her fingers pressed between her legs, stroking her inner fires to culmination. Like a spring coiled too tight, she exploded. Her whole body shuddered as waves of delicious pleasure pulsed through her. She gave a little cry of release and turned over onto her side, pulling a pillow into her arms. As the orgasm subsided, her fantasy dissolved. Reality returned. She was lying on a narrow bunk, alone. Tears filled her closed eyelids and leaked out the sides. She did not want to open them to see the empty cabin, to know that a man who loved her could never be anything but a dream.

  Chapter Three

  “Can you keep a secret?” Ryol Llewelyn shot a measuring stare across the cabin.

  “That’s what you pay me for.” Ange walked over to the dispenser unit and got herself a cup of coffee, while cursing her luck under her breath. Last week Blane, and today Ryol. And it was obvious the merchant wanted to talk.

  She’d entered the galley to find Ryol already there. And as much as she wanted to, she couldn’t just walk away and ignore him—he’d paid a hefty fee for this trip, after all. She took a
cautious sniff of the air. At least she could detect no hint of a wild, forest scent. Still, it paid to be careful. She raised the cup to her nose and inhaled the rich steam coming from the brew. Taking a cautious sip of the scalding liquid, she leaned against the wall and folded her arms.

  Tomorrow they would be landing on Kyffin. As much as she hated contact with men, she needed to talk to her passenger. Ever since her torrid encounter with Blane a week ago, questions had teemed through her mind. Who was he? Why did he give off the same lust-provoking pheromones she did? Did Ryol share that affliction? And why this mad rush to reach Kyffin? What did the brothers want on that abandoned world?

  “I’d heard you had a reputation for keeping your mouth shut about your cargo. A friend of mine recommended you. He said you’d get the job done.” Ryol tapped one skinny finger against the edge of the table. He was smaller than Blane, with dark hair and black eyes. His lean face had a calculating look. His intensity disturbed Ange. He was up to something. No one risked the dangers of the Abandoned Zone on a whim.

  With a nod, she sat down at one end of the long table in the center of the ship’s galley. She narrowed her eyes at Ryol, who sat at the other end.

  She lifted her coffee cup and took another sip while she studied the merchant over the rim. As disquieting as he might be, his effect on her was minimal compared to Blane’s. Every time she caught a glimpse of the younger brother, her heart started to pound and her loins ached. What was wrong with her anyway? For the past few days she’d acted like a stowaway on her own ship, dodging through the corridors or hiding in the control room or the engine room. Meanwhile, the galley had turned into a danger zone.

  Ryol pressed his fingertips together. “My business is extremely confidential.”

  “I’ll stay quiet about anything you tell me, providing it’s not illegal.” She drew the line there. Always had.

  “Illegal?” He smiled. Ange didn’t like the man’s smile—it was too much like a smirk. She shifted in her chair and toyed with her coffee cup. She wasn’t altogether sure it was safe to hear this man’s secrets, but you couldn’t tell a paying passenger to shut up and go away.

 

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